Custom Is A Second Nature, And No

Age Imprints More Wrinkles A In The Mind, Than It Does In The Face, And Souls Are Never, Or Very Rarely Seen, That In Growing Old Do Not Smell Sour And Musty. Man Moves All Together, Both Towards His Perfection And Decay.

There Are As Many And Innumerable Degrees Of Wit, As There Are Cubits Between This And Heaven.

Not Only Does The Wind Of Accidents Stir Me According To Its Blowing, But I Am Also Stirred And Troubled By The Instability Of My Attitude.

As Far As Physicians Go, Chance Is More Valuable Than Knowledge.

The Good Opinion Of The Vulgar Is Injurious.